When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 35

I swallowed hard. My throat was burning. “I’m sorry.”

He tilted his head. “You didn’t lock the door, Ye Na.”

“No,” I said. “But I never asked why it was shut.”

That made him pause. His eyes softened. “You really grew up, huh.”

Before either of us could speak more, Han Wool stepped in from the kitchen, holding three glasses. “You two done unpacking the past?”

Min Hwan smirked. “Define done.”

Han Wool raised a brow at me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “He’s still a menace. But…”

“But you missed me,” Min Hwan cut in.

I ignored him. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Min Hwan raised his can again. “To freedom. And to second chances.”

Han Wool looked at me. “You ready to forgive him?”

I glanced at Min Hwan, at that crooked, annoying smile that somehow hadn’t dulled under years of isolation.

“I already did.”

Han wool handed a me a glass of drink.

I shakes my head, "I don't drink alcohol".

Han Wool looked mildly offended as he handed me the can.

“It’s peach-flavored. Imported. Limited edition.”

I took it, squinting at the label. “Contains 6.5% alcohol.”

Han Wool blinked. “It’s barely alcohol. That’s like... juice.”

“I don’t drink.” I set the can on the table like it had personally offended me. “Do you know how alcohol affects the central nervous system? It’s a depressant—slows everything down. Impairs judgment, coordination, liver function, and has long-term cardiovascular effects. As a doctor, I—”

Han Wool raised both hands in surrender, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, okay, I get it. No poison for the doctor.”

Min Hwan snorted behind us. “She gave you the full textbook page, huh?”

“I deserved it,” Han Wool said, eyes still on me. “I should’ve known better. I wasn’t thinking.”

I looked at him, that ever-soft expression on his face—the kind that never tried to diminish me. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t brushing it off. He was listening.

“That’s not the point,” I murmured, folding my arms. “It’s just… people assume. And I hate that. That just because you’re tired or broken or grieving, alcohol is supposed to be your comfort. It’s not mine.”

Han nodded slowly. “Then it won’t be mine either. Not if I’m with you.”

The room went still for a second.

Min Hwan muttered something under his breath, but it sounded more like a chuckle. I didn’t look away from Han Wool.

“You don’t have to change for me,” I said.

“I’m not,” he replied. “I’m just… respecting you.”

There was something so simple and warm in the way he said it. Like it wasn’t some grand sacrifice or gesture, just a truth he lived by. And maybe that’s why it hit so deep. Why my chest ached just hearing it.

I picked up the can of corn tea he had brought earlier—the one that hadn’t been laced with anything—and took a sip. It was still warm.

I cracked the smallest smile. Just a flicker. But Han Wool saw it. His eyes softened like he’d been waiting for it.